Guilt

Gerard knew the first time he saw Frank that things would turn out all right. He knew it when Matt was kicked out. He knew it whenever the band rowed. When he was fucked up, Gerard knew things would be all right because Frank was there and Frank wasn’t ripped to shreds. Frank could always heal the hurts.

But now Gerard isn’t so sure. For once, Gerard is not drunk after a gig. He’s sober and he knows it. He’s been sitting in his hotel room for 3 hours; it’s 2am now. Frank has just got back and Gerard is sitting here, only a wall between them, listening to the sounds of sobbing.

Gerard can’t move. He’s sitting on his hands, which were inching towards the stash of alcohol under his bed. If he turns his head, he can see his reflection in a mirror. He looks pale, even for his usual standards. His eyes are ringed, not with make-up, although there are traces of it adorning his eyes still, from lack of sleep and stress.

His breathing sounds hoarse to his own ears, his chest shuddering haphazardly, his heart beating rapidly. Gerard knows why he is feeling so awful and it has to do with the sounds coming from the other side of this wall. He leans against it, hoping that to do this it will make it unreal.

Because Gerard knows that he caused those sounds. Maybe not directly, but it was his idea anyway. It is times like this when Gerard makes a note to himself to never follow his ideas through again, but then the band was his idea so the memo is scrapped.

Gerard tries to focus on something else. There are sounds being emitted from the room above, but he soon blushes realising that the bangs are the result of a bed frame being repeatedly slammed against a wall.

He sneaks another quick glance at the mirror, seeing the evidence that the blood vessels in his cheeks are working properly, despite the many times when he doesn’t seem to be alive.

A louder sob racks Gerard’s heart. He is shaking now, torn between staying here and comforting the soul on the other side of the wall. He is torn because their roles are reversed. Normally Frank is the one to comfort and Gerard is the one to be mentally anguished. To go in there would be like confronting himself when he is depressed, or drunk or unstable. And Gerard has always avoided that which would make him face reality.

Taking a deep breath, Gerard wills his body to stand and surprisingly it does. He is not used to this. He is used to his body swaying, all sense of balance gone down the drain, and muscles not doing what he wants. He decides that maybe being sober once in a while has its advantages.

Step after step, one foot placed in front of the other and then he’s walking. His hand falls onto the doorknob and he opens the door slowly, afraid of waking anyone up. As he stands outside Frank’s door, he fingers the plastic card that he has. The one which will open all of the band’s rooms; the one which the others don’t know about; which he only has because he is the oldest, not because he is the most responsible.

He swipes the lock quickly, frowning at the beep and he hears the catch in the sobbing, as Frank must surely have heard him unlocking the door. And when he opens the door, there is Frank curled up in a ball; face turned to the door, eyes wide and ashamed before he ducks his head again. Gerard almost doesn’t see him it is so quick.

Gerard walks slowly, apprehensively to the bed. He doesn’t know what to do in situations like this so he just decides to do what Frankie normally does. So he climbs onto the bed, feeling it sink a little and creak a little.

His hand hesitates before sliding across Frank’s shoulders. He turns them only a little bit, tries to get Frank out of the foetal position but fails. He sighs and instead lies down and curls up behind him, spooning. Gerard’s hands run up and down Frank’s biceps, traverse across his back, loiter around his neck and caress his hair. He blows across the nape of his neck and kisses it hesitantly.

All these things Gerard can remember being on the receiving end of once or twice when he’s been like this. But Frank was never the one who caused him the pain. Never intentionally. Never consciously. And never through other people.

Not that Gerard ever thought he would hurt Frank by just being here. He often wondered why Frank has all those tattoos of this place. He often thought that maybe there was something that Mikey, Ray and himself missed about the place that had been good to Frankie.

Gerard skims his fingertips through Frankie’s hair. Then he just hugs him and kisses his shoulder blades, where he knows wings would be attached if it weren’t reality.

He hugs him until the sobs ease and the breathing regulates. He hugs him and stays still even though all he wants to do at the moment is turn him over and check him over to make sure he’s okay, because his hand is not as dry as it was and as Gerard pulls his hand out tentatively, there are traces of blood on it. Drying traces of blood, which is better than gushing wet blood.

Frankie is calmer now and is starting to move a little so Gerard shifts back and turns the smaller man over. Not that he is much smaller since they are roughly the same height, but Gerard feels protective of the figure before him.

Frank is on his back now and his t-shirt was once white with a phrase across it. Now it’s a pink/red colour with a phrase across it. Gerard sucks in his breath as he fingers the bottom of the t-shirt and starts to pull it up, because if it’s as bad as it looks then Gerard will never forgive himself.

Once the shirt is off however, Gerard can sigh, relief making him feel giddy. Frank is looking at him through bleary red-rimmed eyes that are partially to do with his make-up and mostly to do with the fact that he has been sobbing for the last 30 minutes.

The problems that remain however are: that the t-shirt is stained a red for some reason on the front; that Frank’s lip is torn and bleeding; that his torso is bruised and there are scrapes down his sides; that he was crying; and that Gerard has a feeling it has to do with people they used to know.

The cuts and bruises can wait because they are not directly a problem here. Gerard shifts, and gets up, a little unsteady and walks to the basin located in the corner of the room. Snatching a tissue or two, he wets them slightly and makes his way back to the bed, aware of Frank’s eyes on him.

Dabbing the wet tissue onto Frank’s lip, he is surprised that Frank is so quiet and still. Normally he is quiet, but not this silent.

After the minor tangent Gerard once again focuses himself to the major problem here. Lying down again, propped up on one elbow, he looks down at Frank and studies him. His face is wan, tired, torn. His lips are chapped and his eyes won’t meet Gerard’s.

Sighing again, Gerard lets his fingers wander across Frankie’s torso. They hike up and down his arms, across his waistband and up to his neck. Once there, they cup his face and stroke his jaw line. And whilst they endure their epic journey, Gerard is aware of the stillness and the mighty silence in the room. It is not the drawn out uncomfortable silence it was; more like a soothing one.

Gerard is hesitant to start a conversation, not now Frankie has relaxed but he knows that if he doesn’t then nothing will get better; it will just have levelled off.

“Frankie,” the soft word escapes from his lips before he can think. Inwardly he chastises them for acting upon their own accord and not barring the word from leaving.

The younger man turns his head and looks Gerard directly in the eyes for the first time. A slight quirk at one corner of his mouth reveals that he is listening.

“Frank. What happened?” Frank’s eyes widen and he seems like he’s going to clam up right now.

“I mean. Oh, I don’t know. Just talk, please. Let me know you’re alive in there and that your soul hasn’t been sucked out by one of those Dead Mentors from that Harry Potter series.” Gerard mentally smashes his own head in with a big blow-up sledgehammer. He could kill himself for that last remark. His tongue ran away without his mind again.

“Dementor”.

“W-what?!” Gerard’s eyes widen and he looks around expecting to see someone behind him. Frank is smiling at him now, amused at his expense – as always.

“Dementor, not dead mentor. Honestly.”

Gerard could hug him so hard and kiss him to death. Then he realises that the former has already been put into motion.

“Hey, steady on now.”

“Frankie! You’re alive. Now tell me what happened.”

“Really?” Frank’s voice is whispering now.

“If you don’t want to then… How about I ask some questions and you just nod or shake your head. Remember nod means yes not no.” A nod.

“Okay…” Gerard’s hands are wringing together now. “How about… No… Erm… Does it have anything to do with being here in Belleville?”

A nod. Gerard is now really worried. That can’t have been good.

“Is it something to do with a fan?” A shake.

“Is it something to do with Mikey?” A shake.

“…Ray?” A shake.

“…Bob?” A shake.

“…M-me?” There is a pause. Then a slight nod. Frankie’s eyes are scrunched up, brows drawn close together.

“I’m sorry Gee.” Gerard turns his head quickly and stares in disbelief.

“What on earth for. If it’s what I think it is then it’s my fault for not quashing the idea of doing a gig here, where we started out.”

“For not taking your advice and staying in. I thought things would be different now. Better maybe. I’m sorry because…” Frank is looking at Gerard again, eyes watering.

“Look, if you don’t want me to know then don’t feel you have to talk. I’ll just stay here ‘til you go to sleep and then we can leave tomorrow morning.” Gerard’s voice is bright, a contrast to the darker thoughts percolating the mists of his mind.

“No. It involves you and… I have to tell someone… Look, I went out after the gig, a bit behind Ray and Bob, talking to Mikey. They then went off to a bar somewhere they wouldn’t get hassled. I didn’t follow them. I wanted to walk and remember the place y’know, try and sort my thoughts out.”

Gerard nods, eyes on Frank, listening intently, whilst his body fidgets.

“I was walking past the high school, thinking that maybe I could try to come to terms with everything that happened there. Only I didn’t see them.”

“Who?” And Gerard curses his mouth once again for interrupting. One look at Frank though and he can see him smiling at his fidgeting – it always amuses him no end that Gerard is impatient and can’t sit still.

“Gee, who else used to build a fire under the oak? Who else used to have contests to see how many people they could beat up in a week?”

A gasp. Moments later Gerard realises it was himself. “Billy Conwell.”

“Well yeah. So I didn’t notice him. Nor the four younger boys he’s got with him now. It’s sad that he still feels he has to hang around school to get any action. But he notices me and next I know, I’m up against that tree; two kids holding my arms and another roping me there.

He then goes off on one and somewhere along the line I stop listening and I happened to find a really interesting bush behind him to look at. Well he must have noticed because next I know he’s punched me and my lip is bloody.

Then his fourth minion starts to do something else, I’m not sure what, to the fire. Billy starts going on about you and how poncy you are and attention seeking. I’m afraid I…”

“You…” Gerard waits. His breathing is shallow, not sure what else might have happened.

“I… Said something about you and how it wasn’t an act, and how I should know because of all the times I’ve had to look after you, y’know. And he didn’t like that. Started bleating about how sinful I was and how we were going to burn in hell.”

“Damn homophobe,” Gerard mutters.

“And I wasn’t sure what the hell he was on about. I know I’ve done a few things in that area…”

Gerard looks at Frank more than a little shocked. Frank stares back at him, nothing that shows he’s noticed Gee’s surprise.

“…But not a lot. So I said that maybe I had but you hadn’t. And then he laughed. And do you know what he told me?”

Gerard cursed every deity he could think of. He can’t meet Frank’s gaze and he knows that that must confirm whatever Billy told him, because there’s a sigh and there is more tension between them now.

“He told me that you were the one that got him all fucked up and all. Remember? Suddenly in your eleventh grade, my seventh, 15 year old Billy went whacko. He suddenly became that lout and a disgusting homophobe. You know why? ‘Cos apparently some ‘Goth’ by the name of Gerard Way raped him.” Frank’s voice had risen in pitch throughout the monologue.

Gerard’s mouth is open now.

“No fucking way!”

Frank looks at him.

“I might have done some things to the tadpole but I didn’t rape the bugger. More like he was interested and I was drunk enough to not know what I was doing. In fact he was the one who introduced me to some of the finer points of…” Gerard trails off because suddenly the volatile tension is gone and there is a different type of frisson in the air.

“Y-you didn’t?”

“I didn’t.” Gerard’s voice is steady and calming and it amazes him, but it quiets Frankie right down. He can see the relief in his expressive eyes.

There is only their breathing now, and Gerard’s shoulder is seizing up, so he lays flat out now, arms tucked to his sides, staring up at the ceiling.

“I didn’t do anything like that Frank. Never. Billy fucked himself up. His Dad walked in on us one time and well, I think he decided that denying himself was the best way to survive and voila!”

“I’m glad.” Gerard turns and looks at Frankie weirdly.

“I meant, about the whole raping thing.” Gerard nods. Then a frown crosses his face.

“So if that is what happened and he didn’t do much apart from have his lads tie you up, punch you in the face and mouth off to you… What in earth happened to make you sob like a girl?”

Frank turns to his side and his face is now inches from Gerard’s. Gerard shifts just a little backwards so that he can fit the whole of Frankie’s face into his limited vision and not just part of it.

Peering closely, Gerard can see a faint blush staining Frankie’s cheeks and part of his neck. Banishing thoughts that are saying it is ‘cute’, he follows it down and finds that it stains part of his torso too. Realising he is staring, his eyes wander aimlessly back up to Frankie’s gaze which is kind of embarrassed.

Gerard smiles shakily.

“Hey.” Frankie is biting back a grin.

“Hey Gee.”

“So, erm Frankie, about the, err, crying?”

Frank’s eyes are cast downwards now, fixed on a point on the bedspread. Gerard notices idly that it is a rusty burgundy colour. He didn’t notice it before.

“Frankie, please,” he tries again. This time Frank meets his gaze, tentatively, and Gerard sighs a little. He feels like he was holding his breath and feels a little deflated.

“…Look, I’m worried okay? You’re Frankie. You are the reason I am not 6 feet under,” Frank is blushing more profoundly now, but Gerard pretends not to notice.

“…You help me. Just this time it’s me helping you. I was worried, and I feel like you’re not telling me something. You’re kind of scaring me, so please, just tell me…”

“Gee…”

“Don’t ‘Gee’ me. Look at me, my hands are effing shaking.”

Frank looks at Gerard’s hands and they are shaking. He takes them in his and holds them, smiling a little. The slight frown that has been present all this time is slowly smoothing out.

“I-I guess I’m embarrassed and I’m scared of what you might say Gee…” Frank looks imploringly at Gerard and he pouts a little, looking up beneath his eyelashes.

“Just let me know please… It can’t be that bad…. Can it?” Gerard’s mouth is a little ‘o’ shape now, like he’s forgotten to close it because his mind is following all sorts of horrible paths.

Frank bows his head; he’s basically curled in on himself, with his hands in Gerard’s.

“I was upset, I was upset because…” He sighs as if mentally willing himself to say the next bit, “…Because I thought Billy was right. I thought you had... Y’know… And I thought that the Gerard I knew was a lie. I thought that it was all a lie and… That everything I’ve done for you is bollocks and that you were just putting it on all those times I had to help you.”

Gerard’s mouth is in a fine line. His brows are drawn together and Frankie wonders absent-mindedly if he’s finally done it. If Frankie Iero - the only person Gerard has never shouted at, and the only person whom Gerard has trusted to see him when he is depressed and drunk - has finally pissed Gerard Way off enough that he will actually blow up at him.

In some ways Frank wishes that will be the reaction but has a feeling the anger is directed at him.

“I… Am… Going to fucking kill that whelp Billy!” Gerard was almost scary.

“Gee. Don’t, please. Look, the real underlying reason that I was… crying… was that I believed that the person I…” Frankie’s voice was close to a whisper, such a contrast to the yell before from Gerard, and Gerard had to lean really close to Frank to hear him.

“Yes…” Gerard prompts Frank softly. His arms come around the smaller man, holding him and waiting for it.

“…I liked, no bollocks, loved, could do such a thing. I swear Gerard, if that had been true, I don’t know what I would have done come tomorrow, but suffice to say I might not have had a future.” Frank’s voice is no longer a whisper. Gerard is still hugging him tightly, can see the profuse blush that had spread down Frank’s torso. Can see the tattoos. Can see a lot else. But he can’t move. That statement was a kick in the teeth.

Frank is moving now and sitting up. Gerard’s arms fall to his sides as he lies there, propped up slightly, eyes wide and face slack-jawed.

“You… I… Really…” Gerard is incoherent. There’s a buzzing in his ears. And Frank looks upset and Gerard realises what his thought pattern must be right about now.

“Frankie.”

“Yeah Gee…”

“Can I tell you something?” Frankie is confused now. Gerard is sitting up and he is once again on eye level with Frankie.

“Shoot.”

“Who said…” Gerard leans forward a little. His arm reaches around Frankie’s waist and is stroking along Frank’s spine, “that…”

He’s closer now.

“…I didn’t…” Frankie can only see his eyes now.

“…Feel the same way”. Frankie can feel these words against his lips and then his arms are entwined in Gerard’s hair and they’re kissing. It’s simple, on the lips, but it’s kissing. Frank Iero is kissing Gerard Way!

Gerard’s lips don’t stop there and they traverse to the corners of Frankie’s mouth and plant kisses there: one on the end of his nose; two on his eyelids.

“Gee…” Frank moans softly as Gerard’s lips descend onto his neck, moments before Frank pulls his head up and carefully places a kiss on his lips.

It’s not desperate; they have time enough for that. It’s not passionate. It is here and now.

Slowly, ever so slowly, with Frank’s arms still round Gerard’s neck, they lie down. Gerard is lying just on top of Frank, but he’s not heavy. Far from it. The extra weight is pleasant. Their lips are tingling now and Frank pulls away.

“Gee… I meant it you know.” The whisper caresses the air around them.

“I know Frankie. And I love you too.” And Gerard’s lips lower onto Frankie’s again and now that the first kiss is past, this one has all their passion thrown into it.

Gerard groans this time as Frank runs his fingers through his hair and the feeling accumulates in his groin. Panting slightly, he starts to pull away, but Frank is kissing him and he doesn’t know whether this is just a one-off so he makes the most of it.

The kissing becomes more heated and Gerard traces the scorpion tattoo with his tongue, Frankie bucking beneath him.

And then it’s mouth on mouth again. And oh, that lip ring. Gerard’s head is spinning.

A while later they are getting ready to sleep. Frankie’s eyes are drifting shut. Gerard is kind of glad that things didn’t go further tonight; this is one relationship he does not want to fuck up.

A goodnight kiss and things are still in the room; Frank’s rhythmic breathing lulling Gerard to sleep. Gerard smiles softly at the fact that Frank has fallen asleep on his chest.

It’s a rather nice sensation actually; every time he expels a breath, it travels along his skin sending tingles along his nerves. Of course there also happens to be the fact that there is such a beautiful contrast between Frankie’s hair and Gerard’s skin.

Frank doesn’t hear the knock on the door; he’s asleep, face peaceful, on Gerard’s chest. Gerard looks up as the door bangs open, and a sliver of light worms it’s way into the dark room from the corridor.

“Jesus Mikey. Some people are trying to sleep,” Gerard motions quietly to the sleeping Frank.

There is a pause and an exclamation before a hand appears over Mikey’s mouth. Ray and Bob and standing just behind Mikey and the three of them walk into the room. Mikey’s steps are gingerly taken, as it is obvious that Ray is holding him back.

As they step further into the darkened room, Bob shuts the door with a soft click and Gerard reaches over to the lamp on the bedside table, filling the room with soft light.

Gerard watches with a smirk as Mikey’s eyes widen to ridiculous proportions, and he struggles to get away from Ray. Ray himself is a little taken aback and Bob just stands there, the only one waiting for an explanation before judging.

Gerard knows what it looks like. The burgundy covers are pulled just above his boxer’s waistband. Frankie’s shirt is draped over one bedpost and Gerard’s is currently in a pile on his side of the bed.

Gerard knows that it must look like they’ve done a whole lot more than they have and he grins at expression on his younger brother’s face. Rather comical.

Bob coughs discreetly, bringing Ray and Mikey’s thoughts to the present. Mikey in particular looks a tad dazed.

“Hello fellow band mates. Had fun tonight?” Gerard is talking in a sickly sweet voice, which would sound creepy under normal circumstances, however since he is whispering it, it sounds rather sinister in the dimly lit room.

“Not as much fun as it seems you two have had. Tut tut… You lecherous twat Gerard!” Bob’s amused voice rings clear in the room.

Gerard snorts…

“Gerard… No words… Put some clothes on please… My eyes!” Mikey is peering between his fingers now, Ray’s hand long relegated to back to his side.

“Erm…Mikey?” Gerard flings the covers aside, which leads into a shriek from Mikey, cut short when Ray arranges his hand to clamp his jaws together.

“You see Mikey, they’re still dressed.” Bob comes to the rescue again, though Gerard still likes to see his brother squirm from time to time. Oh the fun he will have come tomorrow!

“Look people, I am tired. I want to sleep now. Please remove Mikey from the vicinity, or he might wake Frankie up; you know what type of morning person he is so I wouldn’t okay?” Gerard yawns, stretches and snuggles down, pulling the covers close.

He wraps his arms around Frank, feeling the younger man shift. The door clicks shut, there is the sound of Mikey being dragged down the hallway and all is silent.

Then Gerard realises he’s left the lamp on and reaches to turn it off.

He’s just getting ready for sleep again when Gerard can feel Frankie stirring.

“Eugh… What time is it Gee?”

“Sometime just before dawn I think.” Gerard smiles softly at the younger man.

“I thought I heard voices.”

“Probably. Don’t be too worried if Mikey is peculiar tomorrow, however you might just want to watch your back.”

“S-Shite… He saw us?” Frank’s eyes are downcast and he sounds a little anxious.

“Try ‘they’”.

“Oh right. Crap.” Gerard’s chuckles lull Frank to sleep, as he gets comfortable again. Gerard stays awake for only a little while longer before he falls asleep to the calming sound of another’s breathing and the soothing touch of someone resting on him.

The next day Gerard wakes to see Frankie emerging from the shower and later that night it is that image to which he falls asleep. However the soundtrack is that of Mikey stammering every time he had to talk to Frank and the laughter of the guys. And of course, the sounds of the moans Frank makes when he kisses him…

--Fin

Based on Gerard Way and Frank Iero from My Chemical Romance.